


Nothing I Didn't Know

by LadyShadowphyre



Series: Something Beautiful [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Doesn't Do Chick Flicks, Gen, Platonic Soulmates, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Dreams, Unless It's For Sam, not wincest, winchester codependency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 08:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11204436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyShadowphyre/pseuds/LadyShadowphyre
Summary: Dean Winchester turned eighteen while on a hunt and told his father that he didn't have a soulmate to go find. His father assumed that meant Dean just didn't have a soulmate. Dean never bothered to tell him that it was because his soulmate was apparently his fourteen year old brother.





	Nothing I Didn't Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zetal (Rodinia)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rodinia/gifts).



> Can't have a Soulmate AU without having Dean dream about his most important person ever~! I should be asleep, but I had to get this one out first.

**S** OULMATES WERE A complication that Dean Winchester did not need or want. His mother had been John Winchester's soulmate, and her death had broken something irreparable inside him, turning him from father to commander and his sons into his soldiers. The hole that Mary's death left had filled with the cold-burning need for revenge against her killer, and there were days (weeks, months) when nothing else mattered to the man, not even Sam and Dean.

Moreover, Dean was a hunter of monsters, always travelling around the country. Sam might have chafed at the secrecy and lack of stability, but Dean honestly loved what they did, swooping in like secret heroes and saving people by killing the thing hurting them and then disappearing into the night again like Batman? What teenaged boy wouldn't think being like Batman was awesome? He didn't want to stop hunting, and that didn't mesh with the whole soulmate and picket fence dream most girls seemed to have. The one time he'd really tried to let a girl in all the way, she'd called him crazy and told him to never speak to her again. Once was enough for that, thank you!

And then there was Sammy. His little brother was the most important person in Dean's life, even over their Dad, and had been ever since he'd carried that six month old baby out of their burning house to safety. Dad was gone on hunts so often, or gone in the bottle when he was there, that Dean had been the one to actually raise Sam more often than not. He wouldn't ever say it to their Dad's face, but somebody had to pick up the slack when John dropped the ball, and Dean had never let anything distract him too long from doing just that. A date here and there or fooling around after school or in the motel room was one thing, but any girl in it for the long haul would just have to deal with Dean's first priority being his baby brother.

The thing is, Dean didn't always remember his own birthday. He remembered Sammy's, and Dad's, and occasionally Christmas, but his own didn't always register until Sam was slipping him some old cassette tape or newspaper-wrapped practical item because they couldn't afford much else. This year, his birthday fell in the middle of a hunt, and Dean honestly wouldn't have noticed if his Dad hadn't been unusually quiet as he poured Dean a shot of whiskey with their cheap take-out.

Dean stared at it for a long moment, then looked up at John cautiously, but his father wasn't looking at him. He was staring into space with that look he sometimes got when he was thinking of Mary back Before. Before the fire.

"The job has to come first, Dean," he said after a long moment, voice rough and low. "There ain't no use in an apple pie life if some demon's poisoning the apples, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," Dean agreed. He waited to see if John would say anything else, but his father only nodded and reached for his own whiskey. Dean took that as his cue and carefully drained the shot, swallowing down the burn and chasing it with greasy beef and slightly stale bread with too much ketchup.

That night he dreamed he was back in Pastor Jim's church in Blue Earth, Minnesota. Sam was there, sitting on the front pew the way he had every time they'd stayed with the older man, looking up at something over the altar that Dean couldn't see. Frowning in confusion, Dean looked around the church, but there was no one else there. With a shrug, he made his way over to the pew and flopped down next to his brother, startling the fourteen-year-old. "Hey, Sammy."

"Dean?" Sam blinked at him, then frowned and looked around them. His eyes flicked up to that spot above the altar again and narrowed slightly before turning to look at Dean again. "What are you doing here? I thought you were on that hunt with Dad."

"I am," Dean confirmed, nodding. "Dad gave me a shot of whiskey as a birthday present."

"Figures," Sam muttered with a snort, but his expression shifted to something a little more guarded, a little more sad. "I'd hoped you'd be back for your birthday. I managed to scrape together enough to get you a whole apple pie to celebrate this time."

"A whole pie? You're gonna spoil me, baby boy," Dean teased, feeling a chill go over him at the mention of apple pie even as his mouth watered. He shook his head and focussed on the Winchester who was actually here. "Bet we could still make it back before my birthday's over, if it means that much to you."

"Guess it'd be a nice surprise for me, since I went and ruined my surprise for you," Sam said ruefully. He looked down at his knees, then up at the altar again, then looked sideways at Dean. "Hey, uh... not that I'm complaining, but shouldn't you be talking to your soulmate right about now?"

"Yep," Dean agreed, popping the "p" on the end and settling himself into a more comfortable sprawl across the pew.

"Then what are you doing  _ here _ ?" Sam asked slowly, the "with me" heavily implied. Dean shrugged one shoulder.

"Talkin' to my soulmate, I guess," he said. There was a long moment of silence from Sam.

"Okay, that's a little weird," he said at last. Dean couldn't hold back the incredulous snort.

"Only a little?" he asked, tilting his head to give Sam his own version of his little brother's side-eye. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Please, like I don't actually know you put me before pretty much anything else besides maybe Dad's orders?" he scoffed, shoulders hunching a little. Dean frowned and sat up.

"Hey now, I put you before Dad's orders plenty of times!" he protested. Sam shrugged again, picking at his jeans, and Dean reached out and gripped his shoulder. "Hey," he said, giving his brother a little shake until Sam looked at him again. "You are the most important person in my life. Ever. The fact I'm here dreamin' of you the day I turn eighteen should be proof enough of that."

"Yeah, well, I'm not going to remember this, and you're probably not going to want to talk about it ever again, so...." Sam muttered.

"I'll talk about it on your eighteenth birthday, how 'bout that?" Dean rejoined. "One time free pass for the biggest chick flick moment you can handle, little brother, even if I have to drive us out to the middle of nowhere and turn off our phones so Dad can't interrupt us."

"How romantic," Sam drawled, making a face at him. Dean made a face right back.

"Ugh, no," he said. "This ain't got nothing to do with romance or sex or anything like that. This is me being your big brother, and you being my little brother, and fuck anyone who tries to tear us apart. Me and you against the world, Sammy."

"Promise?" Sam asked, holding up his left hand. Dead gripped it with his own and used the grip to haul Sam into a tight hug that he might've shied away from in public but what the hell, this was his dream.

"Promise," he whispered. "Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam mumbled back, his free arm going around Dean in return.

He could still fancy he felt those bony arms around him as he woke, blearily scrubbing sleep out of his eyes. John was already up and dressed, and Dean stifled a groan as he rolled out of bed and grabbed his jeans from up off the floor, alternating between shoving stuff into his duffel and shoving clothes onto his body.

"You in a hurry?" John asked, his tone striving for neutral and coming out just the slightest bit edged. Dean opened his mouth to answer, only to be interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn.

"Job's done and Sammy's waiting," he mumbled, scrubbing one hand down his face then back through his short hair, sending it spiking up in all directions as he looked at the clock. "Get going now, it'll still be light out by the time we get back."

"That's it?" John asked, an odd note in his voice that nearly made Dean pause. "Nowhere else you're itchin' to get to?"

"Nope," Dean said after a moment to see if John was going to explain what the hell he meant. "Just wanna get home."

"Huh," John mumbled, then heaved a sigh. "Well, reckon that's just as well." He hesitated, then pulled the keys to the Impala out of his jeans pocket and tossed them to Dean, who barely managed to catch them. "Better get goin' then. I got a few loose ends to tie up here, but I'll be along behind you in a few days." He pointed a stern finger at Dean and added, "Don't wreck her trying to drive too fast, got it?"

"Yes, sir! I mean, no sir!" Dean stammered, grabbing for his duffel and making for the door before his Dad could change his mind. He froze in the door when John called his name.

"Dean," he said softly, almost wistfully. "You get  _ anything _ out of last night?" Dean hesitated, studying the thoughtful sadness in his father's eyes, then made himself give the man a wry smile.

"Nothin' I didn't already know," he said, and slipped out the door to fall into the driver's seat of the Impala. It was past time he got home before the little bitch ate his pie.


End file.
